Fear, Alone
by EverlastingFlower96
Summary: 'When you feed fear, you eventually feed fear you." WARNING: Contains very sensitive content, mainly chapters 2-3.
1. Enter the Boogie Man

**Hey y'all... **

**So...**

**I'm gonna be taking a long break from posting on here. For how long, I don't know. There's been a lot of stuff that's been going on over the last several months, and I just now feel worn out, depressed, and like utter crap. I've pretty much lost all motivation to do any writing, so I've decided that I should take a break from everything so I can put my life back together...Or at least try to. **

**I wrote this story around fall break last semester, and I attempted to post this several times, each time removing it because I felt like it needed work, so here's the final draft. **

**I'll miss you all. You can message me if you ever want to, I'll at least respond to those. **

**Until next time, friends. **

**~Rose Hawthorne**

**Fear, Alone**

_"Don't give in to your fears. If you do, you won't be able to talk to your heart." ~Paulo Coelho_

_"The moment we begin to fear the opinions of others and hesitate to tell the truth that is in us, and from motives of policy are silent when we should speak, the divine floods of light and life no longer flow into our souls." ~Elizabeth Cady Stanton._

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><p>Mary was slowly beginning to lose consciousness just as she finished adding the final touches to her persuasive essay for English. Her blue eyes, which were now heavy from weariness, flickered over to the clock on her laptop to check the time. It was now 2:30 AM.<p>

Mary hastily read through her essay one last time before closing her laptop with an audible _snap_. She shoved her textbooks off to the side, for once not even caring if her usually tidy desk was a mess. After quickly scanning through her leftover notes one last time, Mary closed her notebook and tossed it aside to join the pile of books next to her. Running a hand through her short strawberry-blonde hair, she leaned back into her chair and sighed.

She was already half way through her first semester as a freshman in college. It seemed like it was only yesterday when she was first dropped off at school, a mere timid and awkward newcomer.

She was studying to be a theater major, with a double minor. She had great hopes to one day work on Broadway as a professional dancer. Smirking at the thought, she shook her head and sat up, only to slump over her desk again, her head between her hands.

It had been a very long, stressful day, and her energy level had been slowly reducing over the past couple of had been two and a half days since she had last slept. Evidence of her exhaustion was now becoming more noticeable, no matter how much she tried to hide it. Large bags had formed underneath her very bloodshot eyes, which was now almost becoming impossible to conceal with makeup, and her once perfect posture was now hunched over her desk like her spine did not want to hold her up anymore.

She stifled a yawn, and looked about the dimly lit dorm room. Fall break had just started, and both of her roommates had chosen to go home for the weekend. As much as she loved her one roommate that she was very close to, in all honesty, it was nice to finally have the room all to herself so she could study for her midterms in peace. Secretly, Mary would have _loved_ to have gone home to see her family; however, her father had been unable to get time off work to come down and get her, and she couldn't find a ride from anyone else.

She pulled her fuzzy blue blanket closer to her shivering, slimmed figure and stood up, crossing over to the other side of the room to adjust the temperature on the thermostat. Virginian nights were usually warm and sometimes humid, but tonight the weather had suddenly taken a turn and the temperature dropped, much to the astonishment of local meteorologists.

_F__zzzt!_

_Pop!_

Sparks flew behind her and she squeaked in surprise, whirling around to face complete darkness. She blinked for a moment, processing what had just happened.

Her desk lamp.

Her desk lamp's _brand new_ light bulb had for whatever reason, just suddenly burst.

Mary exhaled angrily, the air escaping from between her teeth. "Oh. For. Fuck's. Sake!" She growled irritably, with emphasis on each syllable she uttered under her breath. Stumbling about the room, hands out in front of her, she cautiously made her way back towards her desk. "I swear to god, the box said they were supposed to last for seven years! What a bloody rip off," she grumbled bitterly. She crossed the room once more and flicked the main switch.

No light.

Confused, Mary turned the switch on and off several times before groaning in frustration. "Well that's just great." She went back to her desk, in search of her flashlight.

""I know I put it here somewhere...Where is my flashlight?! Damn it, I can never find anything!" She continued muttering darkly to herself. Exhaustion usually resulted in her talking to herself, and tonight was no exception. "Found you!"

She found her little red flashlight hiding underneath some old, forgotten drafts that she had hastily tossed inside while trying to clean the room before room checks before convocation one day, and she had been in a hurry to make it to class on time. She flipped the switch on and sighed with relief at the sight of the small light. She poked her head out of the door and peered down the hall. It was pitch black. "OK, well obviously it's not just my room then." She whispered to herself, closing the door.

Just as the door clicked shut, she suddenly froze. She could've sworn that she had seen something moving out of the corner of her eye, just by her roommate's closet. She did not move from her spot, she just stood there, waiting. There was no other movement, but now silence and an eerie stillness greeted her. Slowly turning around, she shown her flashlight at the closet. There was nothing there. "OK, that's it. You're getting scared by your own shadow; I don't believe it." "

She muttered, leaning against the desk and sighing heavily, massaging her temple. "That's it, I'm done with homework for the night. I gotta sleep." She set the flashlight down on the table.

"How often do you say that and then actually obey yourself?" A soft, male voice spoke from behind her, with a slightly amused tone. She screamed and whirled around, shining her flashlight around the room frantically.

Nothing. She groaned in frustration and face palmed.

"OK... this is getting weird. I'm going to bed...I _need_ sleep._ Sleeeep_." She muttered trying to reassure herself. She turned towards the bunk bed and placed her foot down on the first board, grabbing the sides of the wooden structure, about to begin her ascent to the top. "Oh, why do you lie to yourself, Mary? You know that you secretly dread having to sleep." Mary nearly broke her neck as she lost her footing on a board and fell off the side of the bed. Fortunately, she had very fast reflexes, and was able to grab the bed post before she could hurt herself.

"Who's there?" She shouted. She stood up and whipped her flash light out yet again, looking around the room.

There was still nothing. "What the hell is going on?" She murmured to herself. She stuck her hand inside of her bathrobe pocket and wrapped her fingers around her tiny cellphone. Pulling it out, she began to dial. Halfway through pushing numbers, she stopped. Who could she possibly call, and what would she actually say? _"Hello? Yes, I'd like to report a creepy voice talking to me in my room, but I can't seem to find the source of where it's coming from."?_ That sounded absolutely ridiculous, and she was now convinced that she was beginning to hallucinate from her exhaustion. From the small amount of moonlight that reflected in front of her, she saw a shadow looming up from behind, and she turned around to face her intruder.

Standing directly behind her, was an abnormally tall man with gray skin, and dressed in a black robe. Leaning forward, he brought his face up to hers, curling his upper lip, and exposing a row of jagged teeth. He reached forward and laid a hand on her flashlight.

"Boo!" He whispered, switching off the light. She screamed and jumped back, clutching the bed post behind her.

"W-who are you?" She demanded. "How did you get in here?" She could feel her heart hammering away in her chest from terror. For a hallucination, he seemed very life like. She didn't dare to try to pick up her cell phone, which she had had dropped on the floor and had slid away from her. "Oh, I think you know perfectly well who I am." He answered, his voice as slick as his greasy black hair. Mary's eyes darted around the room then back at him, her mind racing as she tried to think of what she should say. "N-no...I don't." Was all she was able to finally say.

He laughed, sending chills down her spine. "Oh, you do know me, you just try to forget that I'm always there with you; in your nightmares...waiting." _OK, this is getting seriously freaky. _Without warning, Mary swung her arm with the flashlight still in her hand at the dark figure. "Get. OUT!" To her surprise, just as the flashlight was about to come into contact with the intruder, he vanished. He didn't step to the side, or duck; he _literally vanished, _melting back into the shadows.

"You know… its rather rude to be attacking your own guest." His voice drawled from behind her. She whirled around, shining the light in his face. She couldn't decide whether it was fear or irritation that was now fueling her adrenaline. "OK, look. I don't know who the hell you are, nor how you got in here, but PLEASE just get the fuck out of my room before I call the campus security, OK? I'm giving you the chance here to just walk away in peace." He laughed and shook his head. "You can't just ask me to leave. No matter what, I'll _always_ be near."

Now this was getting really creepy. She raised an eyebrow in disgust, her lip curling slightly. "OK, just...Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Who am I?" The dark silhouette replied softly, his eyes glowing in the dark. As he spoke, his silhouette began to increase in size, his eyes glowing orange, lips pulled back to reveal his pointed teeth. "I am the face of _fear_, I am the shadow that moves out of the corner of your eye, I haunt every human child's nightmares..."

Mary felt herself go weak in the knees...

"I am the _Boogie Man_."

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><p><strong>I'm finishing up the second part now, then I'm gonna get off. I'll be adding a third part to this once I eventually get back on here. :P<strong>

**Peace.**


	2. What people fear the most

**And now, part II. **

**Edit: I'm sorry it took so long to post this. This semester has been hell in heels so far, plus I've been having some technical difficulties. **

**All my other stories I've yet to update will be up shortly.**

**~Rose**

_"Who am I?" The dark silhouette replied softly, his eyes glowing in the dark. "I thought you'd never ask." As he spoke, his silhouette began to grow in size, his eyes glowing orange, lips parting to reveal pointed teeth. "I am fear, I am the shadow that moves out of the corner of your eye, I am every human child's nightmare..."_

_"I am the **Boogie Man**."_

The menacing figure stepped out of the dark and into the moonlight. "Or you can just call me Pitch, whichever you prefer." He added nonchalantly, with a shrug of the shoulders, and returned to his original size, the light in his eyes dimming. "W-what are you doing in my room?" Mary stammered. "How did you get in here? This has to be a dream, there absolutely is_ no way_-"

"Oh no! No, no, no, no, **_no_**." Pitch interrupted abruptly, holding up a hand, letting out a small chuckle that made her cringe. "_I_ don't do _dreams_. If you want some of those, then you can go talk to the gold dust ball with his little dandruff cloud. No, my specialty is..." He paused for a dramatic effect. "_Nightmares_." He grinned sinisterly. Mary took a small step backwards, frowning. Now that her heart had slowed its persistent hammering in her chest, she could think properly. While this Pitch fellow was certainly unnerving, he was beginning to appear like less and less of a threat to her, and more like some hallucination her. weary mind had concocted. At least that's what she had told herself. "Nightmares... You're kidding me, right?"

"I don't "kid" about these kinds of things." Pitch retorted, his nostrils flaring. "I wander through out the Earth, lurking in the shadows, be-stilling fear into the hearts of men and women alike, and letting my beautiful Nightmares feed off the fear whenever there is much to be found."

"What do you by Night- oh, Jesus Christ!" Mary jumped back in alarm, moving back to the other side of the room. Standing right behind her, its golden eyes glowing through the dark, was a black horse. A black horse made entirely out of _black sand_. Its nostrils flared once more as it sniffed at her, taking a couple steps closer. "W-what is that thing... ?" She asked, pointing her finger at it. It took a snap at her finger and she pulled it back, yelping in pain.

"A Nightmare; one of my finest creations." He replied proudly, beckoning the demonic looking thing to come to its master. "Creatures created by fear; born from dreams turned foul. They help me to create even more fear." He explained, stroking the Nightmare's mane in a surprisingly fond manner. "Well what's a Nightmare doing in my bedroom?" Mary eyed the thing wearily and it stared back at her, snorting impatiently. "Weren't you listening to a word I said earlier? My Nightmares can smell fear for miles, and **_you_ **absolutely reek of it."

Mary had finally had enough. "OK, that's it. I've had it! You, get _out_ of my room _right now_ and leave me alone! You're nothing but a hallucination from my lack of sleep!" She exclaimed, pursing her lips. "I'm going to bed, and when I wake up, you're gonna be gone. Got that?" She turned to climb up the bunk once more. "But you won't go to sleep, will you?" Pitch's voice asked calmly, and something deep within her told her that he already knew. She turned to face him. "What makes you think that?" She asked. "You dread having to go to sleep. You begin to dream the queerest dreams; sometimes they wake you up in the dead night of night in a cold sweat screaming. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong." His eyes flashed, practically daring her to try to lie to him. Mary's jaw clenched. "What of it then?" She asked. "What then, indeed?" Pitch replied, smirking. "If you don't believe me when I say what I'm capable of doing, how about I show you what your fears are? Or even better, how about I show you what it is you fear, and the cause for each fear?" Mary hesitated. "What do you want in return?" She asked. Pitch looked offended. "Me? Ask for something in return? Why I would _never_ dream of bartering over something this delicate! This will be a free show, Mary."

Mary took a deep breath. "OK, fine."

Pitch grinned, slipping a hand behind his back and crossing his fingers. He waved his hand and black sand slithered across the floor rising into the air between the two of them and began twisting and expanding, morphing into different shapes all around them. "I think the best place to start would be at the beginning, don't you?" Pitch asked. Instead of answering, Mary gaped at the shapes the sand had formed, and watched them with wonder as her room vanished and was replaced with-

"A dance studio..." Mary whispered. She looked up at Pitch. "A dance...We're in a dance...Oh my god." She trailed off, at a complete loss for words. "We're in my old dance studio." She finally said, looking around and cupping her hand over her mouth. It was just as she remembered it: The green walls with the intricate flower and butterfly paintings surrounding the door frames and windows, and the rays of sunlight that filtered through the windows. Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Standing in a corner and stretching all by herself, was a little girl about eight years old. She placed her leg on the ballet barre and reached over her foot, pliéing slightly. Mary took a tentative step closer towards her, clearing her throat. "'Scuse me?" The girl did not reply. "Hey, um...Excuse me?" She tried again. The girl still did not reply.

Mary reached out to touch her shoulder. To her great surprise, her hand passed through the girl's body, and the girl's shoulder momentarily dissolved, then moved back into place and solidified once more. "She's not real, and she can neither see nor hear you." Pitch explained. Mary looked down at her hand and cringed. "Yeah, well you could have told me that sooner." Mary replied sarcastically, wiping her hand on her pant legs. She looked up at the girl again, who had switched legs at the barre. There was something familiar about that girl. It was at that moment the girl removed her leg from the barre and turned around. Mary's jaw dropped. "But...She can't be...That's _me._ That," she turned and pointed, "Is _me_."

"Yes it is. This is where it all began. Right here in this very room. This where all your fears were first conceived."

"What do you mean-"

"Look at you; you used to be such a happy and adorable child, with those bright blue eyes of yours that shown with such curiosity, and that big smile those rosy cheeks..." Pitch interrupted, looking at the younger version of Mary with disgust in his voice.

"Yeah... That was...Those were good times." Mary whispered, watching her younger self cross to the center of the room and stare at herself in the mirror, looking at her reflection curiously. She performed a few small steps, looking at herself. Then, the steps became bigger and more sure of themselves. The two of the stood silently, watching Young Mary dance around the room. "And that all changed when you were first exposed to what it meant to be hated by all."

"You were so excited when you transferred to another dance studio. You could hardly wait to get started and make new friends." Pitched narrated, "But weren't you in for a surprise?" As he finished saying this, the door opened and four other girls about Young Mary's age walked in. Mary suddenly stopped dancing and turned to look at them sheepishly. The girls exchanged a look of contempt, then went off in a corner together to whisper amongst themselves, occasionally one would glance over in her direction and snicker.

"You were always so kind to them, but they rejected you from the moment you started dancing with them. All because they could tell you were different: You didn't to go the same school as them; you were always so cheerful, so..._unique_. You were also the teacher's favorite. You were a very talented dancer for a girl your age, and they couldn't stand you." Mary's smile began to fade slowly, as she watched her third grade self go over to the wall and slide to the floor and wrap her arms around her legs. "It was then that for the first time in your life you began to wonder about yourself. When you began to wonder if your extroverted personality and your differences made you that much of an outcast." Pitch said quietly, looking down at her from out of the corner of his eye, hands clasped behind his back. "And that was the first time in your life that you began to feel lonely."

Mary felt her throat tighten a little while she watched herself sit in the corner alone. "And that was only the beginning," Pitch continued; "they all treated you like a social outcast for _ten years_. You heard them saying things about you behind your back: You were annoying, you were ugly, you were the teacher's pet, a show off, awkward... _Useless._ The rumors and gossip only got worse as you got older. Oh, how you grew to hate going to dance every week because you didn't want to have to endure those girls; but where else could you go?"

Mary sighed and watched herself slowly stand up and walk to the center of the room. With each step she took, she began to grow taller and older By the time she had reached the center of the dance floor, Mary was now staring at her seventeen year old self. She began to dance, her moves had now become more poised and graceful from years of training and many hours practicing in her little bedroom. "I never enjoyed watching myself dance," Mary finally said, breaking the silence. "But I never realized how... _nice_ it looked."

Pitch pursed his lips. "Yes, you grew up to be an amazing dancer. And everyone else knew it too. Why do you think they hated you so much?" He said. Mary watched the girls line up in the center of the floor to practice a dance number. As the girls danced, Mary saw one girl slowly dance closer to her. Without warning, she intertwined her leg around Mary's, causing Mary to fall and hit her head on the dance floor with a loud _crack_ while the girl who tripped her managed to keep her balance.

Mary winced and rubbed her temple. Watching it happen all over again made her head hurt. "I sprained my ankle because of that bitch," Mary muttered darkly, "My other ankle had just healed from another similar injury several months prior. She said it was an accident, but I knew she did it on purpose." Mary explained, watching herself slowly stand up and limp out into the hall. Mary knelt to her and knelt down beside herself while she watched her slowly take her pointe shoe off and wince in pain. Younger Mary rested her back against the wall and let out a long sigh, her eyes filling with forbidden tears.

"All you had wanted was their friendship, but did you really think that they would want be friends with someone like you? _No_. No you didn't belong. You were a no body. And it wasn't just at dance where the other children who were beginning to shun you. It was happening everywhere, even in your own church. By the time you were thirteen, all of the little girls had decided that they didn't like you anymore because you had no interest in what brand of clothing you wore or how you did your hair, so they completely ignored you. You began to hang out with all of the boys instead so you would at least have some friends, and then the girls at your church began calling you a flirt and a slut. Some even accused you of stealing "their boy", because many of the boys had developed a crush on you. " His upper lip curled in disgust.

"After your mother had told you the same thing, and that you were giving yourself a bad name, you isolated yourself from the boys because you didn't want people to think lowly of you, but what did that matter? They didn't want you. Nobody wanted you. They were never going to accept you for who you were. And why would they? You weren't worth anyone's time." Mary shuddered slightly and wrapped her arms around herself. The Nightmare sitting in the corner raised its head, nostrils flaring and eyes wide. It looked at her hungrily.

"And then there's your family..." She suddenly snapped out of her reverie and looked up at Pitch. "My...family?" Pitch rolled his eyes. "_Yes, _I do believe that's what I said." He waved his hand lazily and the dance studio dissolved around them, and they found themselves standing in her own living room back home. There was shouting. So much shouting. Mary turned to find herself standing in front of her parents, her face flushed with anger. "They have you under so much pressure right now, don't they? Wanting to you to have A's in school, getting into the school plays, and of course being a success like everyone has been telling you ever since you could remember. You don't want to disappoint them; you don't want them to think you're hopeless. You've always had to bend over backwards to keep them happy with you."

Mary groaned and massaged the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "With each passing day, the pressure continues to grow. Trying to keep the family happy does wear one out, doesn't it?" Mary slowly began to back away, looking around for some way of escape. Pitch's Nightmare let out a snort of warning behind her and she started, moving away from it as quickly as possible.

"You've never been the daughter they wanted you to be," Pitch continued softly, ignoring the Nightmare which was slowly getting dangerously close to Mary, who was trying to stay as far away from it as possible, while at the same time trying to avoid Pitch. "You could never make them happy. No choice was good enough for them unless it was what _they_ wanted, wasn't it?"

"Yeah well, can you blame them? I messed up for a while, OK? I went through a rebellious stage and fucked some shit up. It was my fault all this happened!" Pitch's eyes flickered for a split second, but his expression never altered. "But do you really think you could ever make it up to them? After all you did..._You _who caused so much chaos and disorder. Do you really expect them to forgive you for that?" Mary opened then closed her mouth, sighing in defeat.

"Oh ho!" Pitch suddenly laughed, elbowing her ribs. "**_Here_**, is a good one!" Her living room suddenly dissolved, and they found themselves standing in a grave yard. Mary looked around, her face had suddenly gone pale. "No, please. Not this one, I get the idea, please don't!" Mary begged, hiding her face in her hands. Pitch looked over her head at something that had caught his eye. "Oh look, now who could that be?" He asked, the corner of his lip twitching. Mary shook her head. "No, please don't." Pitch pulled her hands from her face and whirled her around, forcing her to look. About a hundred yards away, Mary saw herself just as she was now, only from a few months prior. Beside her was a young man with long, dark, curly hair, dressed all in black, with his arm wrapped around her middle as they walked up the hill from the graveyard towards an abandoned white building. "Oh, how adorable." Pitch cooed mockingly, placing a hand on Mary's shoulder. "Why don't we take a closer look?" Before he had finished uttering that sentence, they were now standing underneath the overhanging over the rickety structure.

The young couple stood with their backs to the wall, looking out over the graveyard, not saying anything. "What are you thinking about?" The boy asked Mary, turning his head to face her. "Nothing very important," Young Mary replied, laughing weakly. "I'm just tired." The boy didn't say anything; instead, he gently turned her head to face him, and softly pressed his lips to hers. Young Mary sighed, and kissed him back. "You never did tell him what it was you were thinking. Why would you? You were afraid to hurt him or yourself." Pitch spoke, sitting down on a wooden ledge as he watched the young couple kissing in front of him. "Your family didn't approve of him. You thought it was because he was not your typical "good Christian boy". Everything about him was different...New. You had to endure so much criticism from them about him, because you were afraid they'd be right. You were afraid he was going to just be like your former boyfriend."

Mary's jaw hardened. She watched their kisses growing more and more passionate. The boy backed up into the wall, his long, nimble fingers tangling themselves in her short hair, and Young Mary pressed her body up against his, her arms wrapped around his torso. "Everyone else thought you'd make a great couple. The Great Forbidden Romance, oh it was deliciously scandalous! Everyone in town who knew positively adored it. _Hot_, is what I believe they described you two." Pitch added, snorting indignantly. The boy's lips left Young Mary's and he lightly kissed the tip of her nose, then her mouth again, letting his lips trail along her jawline teasingly before they descended to her throat. Mary felt her face turning bright red at the sound of her Younger self gasping in surprise, but she could not look away. She blushed when his lips touched a sensitive part on her neck and she suddenly heard her younger self let his name escape her lips in a soft moan, betraying her arousal by this physical contact. This did not go unnoticed by him, who laughed softly into her neck, pressing her even closer to him, and kissing her a little harder, his teeth brushing against her skin ever so slightly.

"I love you," Young Mary finally managed to gasp, her head tilted back and her eyes closed. He stopped, kissing her neck once more time then kissing just underneath her chin, before he looked up into her eyes. "Do you really?" He asked, resting his forehead against hers. Young Mary nodded. "Yeah. And I've been waiting a long time to tell you in person." He smiled and nuzzled her nose affectionately. "I love you too, Mary." He whispered.

"LIAR!" Pitch yelled gleefully in their faces, and time suddenly froze. Mary realized she had been holding her breath, and she exhaled shakily, sniffling. Pitch threw back his head, laughing. "How pitiful," he chortled, slowly circling her; hands clasped behind his back. "Did you really think that he would ever return your feelings? That he will ever see you as something more than a choice, a substitute? You. Were. _Nothing_," he emphasized, leaning towards her ear, "more than someone he could shove off to the side while he chased other girls around until they rejected him and he came crawling back, claiming that you were the one all along." Mary's jaw clenched. "What was it that he had given you as a token of his affections? Oh yes, the _black ribbon_." Mary shut her eyes, biting her quivering lip so hard it began to bleed. "You still have it. Locked away in a box underneath your bed along with all your other forgotten dreams and ambitions."

Pitch's pacing around her ceased and he stood behind her, hands rested on her shoulders. "Oh...You poor, _poor_ thing….You fell in love with him. What a pity that it was unrequited love." She wrenched herself out of his grasp, glaring up at him. "He seemed like such a nice fellow. He was very funny, charismatic, handsome, "caring". You never expected that he'd turn out the way he did."

"He never cared about you. You were nothing more than second rate; the _other_ option. You gave him nearly everything: Your time, your patience , your affections, your _heart_. You stood up for him on more than one occasion because your family couldn't stand him. But what had he _ever_ done for you? **_  
>Nothing…<br>_**"Please, stop…" Mary whispered, her voice trembling. "You don't have to say anymore…" "Oh no, it's just getting good! It wasn't until the last week of school that he told you he realized his feelings for you… That he _loved you_. Of course you were so blinded by _your own_ love that you believe his pathetic little lies and you let him twist and squeeze your heart into a bloody pulp."

"And what," he said to her, his voice barely over a whisper. "Is he doing now? You found out from a friend that he's chasing some other girl around behind your back and leaving you alone all over again to try and mend your broken heart." The corner of his lips turned upwards slightly. "All those nights you've cried yourself to sleep… because you were afraid that _they_ were right. That he was only there to try and get into bed with you and nothing more. But now you wonder if they were right all along."

The big grin on Pitch's face vanished. "He was worth everything to you: all the snide remarks, the judgment, and the disapproval from others meant nothing to you because you thought he was _worth it_. But I have to wonder…..Were you worth it to him?" Pitch leaned forward so he was face to face with her. "Face it, you're nothing to him. He never loved you to begin with. You were nothing but a toy that he could play and cuddle with for a short time until something better came along." Mary's chest rose and fell shakily as she tried to keep her composure. "And what about other one? What about that boy you've grown fond of lately. What was his name again? Oh yes-"

"Stop it, just _stop_." Mary hissed, her fists clenching and unclenching. "He seemed awfully nice to you when you first met," Pitch smiled knowingly. "Talked quite a bit if I do recall. _You_ were beginning to wonder if he fancied you. He seemed so caring. So _sweet._" Mary smacked her forehead with the palms of her hands. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!" She growled dangerously. "You've become afraid to feel because you don't want to repeat the past all over again. Especially now that he's ignoring, or perhaps even, _avoiding_ you." Mary whirled around. "LOOK. Just drop it, OK? DROP. IT." Pitch grinned. "You don't want to open up to this one even know you know you should because you're afraid he's going to hurt you like all the rest had." Mary let out a strangled scream.

"STOP!"

They were suddenly back in Mary's dorm. All was dark and quiet, except for the steady rain fall outside. "Why did you show me all of that?" Mary said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I did what I said I was going to do, obviously." Pitch replied, clasping his hands behind his back. "I showed you all of your fears and the cause for each of them." Mary gulped, trying to hold back a sob. "Those weren't my fears. They were nothing but bad memories." She said. Pitch shook his head, smirking. "Yes, but those were all of your fears, spanning back to when you were a small child." Mary turned around slowly. "Then what are they, then? You're not making any sense!"

"Everything you saw, every memory that haunts your dreams are the things you fear." Pitch began to explain. "You fear friendship. You've been betrayed by so many people in the past that you're afraid of getting close to others. You fear rejection, love, vulnerability, failure, pain, kindness, and most importantly: You fear being alone." Mary frowned. "That...doesn't make any sense-" "Don't you see it?" Pitch asked, impatiently. "Why do you isolate yourself from other people? Why do you refuse to open up to those who really care? Because you're afraid of the pain. You're afraid that they'll abandon you, and that's why you shut them all out." Mary's jaw set. "You wonder what use you have on this planet? Why do you even bother trying when all people are going to do is ignore you?"

The Nightmare which up until this point had stayed quietly in a corner of the room suddenly perked its head up and narrowed its bright eyes at Mary, snorting.

"Makes you wonder...If people are going to act like you don't exist...Why do you even exist in the first place?"

Mary suddenly felt a sharp jab of pain in her finger and she cried out in surprise. She held her hand up to closely examine where the Nightmare had bitten her earlier. The small grains of black sand that were lodged in her exposed skin were beginning to spread throughout her whole finger. She could only stand with her mouth open in terror as it slowly began to cover her entire hand, absorbing the flesh and bone, until it became nothing more than a hand molded out of black sand. "What's...what's happening?" She called out, panic stricken. "It's what happens when you let fear over power you, Mary." Pitch replied. The black sand had now spread to her elbow. "What did you do to me?!" Mary shrieked as her entire arm had transformed into sand. "I didn't do anything," Pitch said. "You did this to yourself." He took a step back, and out from behind him appeared five Nightmares, which suddenly transformed into the figures of her parents, her dance mates, and her ex lover.

Her "parents" grabbed her shoulders, their hands onto her like an iron vice. The girls from her class slithered towards her menacingly, latching onto her legs. "Let me go!" Mary screamed, tears filling her eyes. The Boy lunged towards her and bit down hard on the side of her neck and she let out another pain filled scream. "Make it stop!" Mary found herself forced to her knees. By this point, half of her body had been engulfed in black sand. Pitch shook his head. "It's too late for that now." He said softly. "You see, when you feed fear, you eventually feed fear you. You've let yourself feed your fears for so long, you have nothing left to feed it by yourself." Mary was now struggling to breathe. "So are you saying I'm going to die?" She choked out, feeling her lungs crushing inside of her. "It doesn't really matter," Pitch said, leaning forward. "No one will even no you're not even there."

He took a step back and watched the black sand finish the rest of its work. Mary was now nothing more than a person made out of sand. The figures holding onto her pressed themselves into her, forcing their way inside. With one final scream, she exploded into nothing but dust. Pitch laughed. He had enjoyed that immensely. He could still hear her scream echoing in the room. And then, Pitch heard a voice in the distance call out his name.

"PITCH BLACK!"

* * *

><p><strong>And now to bed so I can battle this cold..<strong>

**Are some of these fears irrational? Yeah, I guess you could say that. Does some of it not make any sense? Of course. A lot of people today experience similar fear like this. It may seem silly, but it's there regardless. I'll post Pt. 3 next week. We gotta have a happy ending/uplifting lesson here now don't we? :P**

**And for those of you messaging me expressing concern, I'm doing so much better now, thank you. :)**


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